


Two

by theficisalie



Series: Night Dust [2]
Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theficisalie/pseuds/theficisalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The faded past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two

**Author's Note:**

> beta: [kazzbot](http://kazzbot.livejournal.com)

“It’s hot, Jet.”

“Just another minute, Party.” The curly hair disappeared beneath the ancient freezer lid again. Muffled sounds of clinking started when Jet kept looking for whatever it was he was trying to find now.

“I thought we had everything!” Gerard shouted, giving the wolf who was watching them a quick grin. “He’s just going to be a minute.”

“You take your sweet time,” the man said, his smile sickly sweet. “You say you got a gun comin’ my way, yeah? On top of those batteries?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, shifting the picnic box he was balancing on his hip. “That’ll cover all the stuff in here and whatever Jet Star’s picking out over there?”

“So long as it ain’t a bomb or a gun, he can take whatever his heart fuckin’ desires,” the wolf drawled. He pulled a knife out of its sheath and started sharpening it.

“Ah, got it,” Jet said, straightening up. He had what looked like a white box in his hands, which he carried gingerly over to Gerard.

“‘zat a bomb?” the wolf asked, barely glancing up from his knife.

“No?” Jet said, frowning in confusion. “It’s...just some dishes?” He was holding the box like it might break at any second, and the look on his face was one that Gerard recognized from side glances he’d stolen of Jet looking at his girl. So the dishes were probably a gift for her, to go along with the belt they’d found tucked inside a file cabinet.

“Cool,” the wolf said, barely sparing them another glance. “Take ‘er away.”

“Yeah guys,” Ghoul said, popping up from behind the wreckage of a car with the ratty, moldy cardboard box he’d found. The paper substance was rotting on the bottom and bulging at the sides, and he looked as proud as a mother hen about his terrible find. “Let’s go already.”

“You havin’ fun with that box?” the wolf asked, his grin fading a little. “Hey, wait a minute.”

“Party, give the man his gun,” Ghoul said, blinking innocently.

“Right,” Gerard said. He pulled the white gun out from behind his back and tossed it at the wolf, who caught it with a grin.

“Right pleasure doing business with all of you,” the wolf said, his beady eyes gleaming as they traced over the length of his new gun.

Gerard waited for Jet to head off to the car before following. Ghoul took up the rear, and he spent extra time getting his dumb cardboard monstrosity into the trunk. It wasn’t until they were a few seconds away from the junkyard that Ghoul opened his mouth and let out a cackle. “That guy was so motherfuckin’ easy,” he wheezed, laughing hard enough so that he was doubled over in his seat.

“What?” Gerard asked, looking at his smug little face in the rearview mirror.

“Oh god,” Ghoul said, hacking out a cough when he was done laughing. It sounded like he was about to lose a lung but he waved off Jet’s inquisitive hand. “‘m fine, just a cold. Fuck.”

“What did you mean about that guy,” Gerard said again, shifting down a few gears so he could make a sharp turn without breaking the apparently fragile dishes Jet had picked up for Grace.

“That he was a Class A dumbass?” Ghoul asked, giggling. “I found this shitty box with a weak bottom, right, and this guy tells me I can take it for fuckin’ free, what do you think I mean about him being easy?”

“Wait,” Gerard said.

Jet turned around in his seat, his brow furrowed. “Are you telling us you stole an entire box full of stuff from a _wolf_?”

“Hell fucking yes I did,” Ghoul said, laughing for another half second before the motion dissolved into coughs again.

“You been smoking again, Ghoul?” Jet asked, turning around in his seat and doing up his belt. “Shit’s bad for your lungs.”

Ghoul leaned out the window and spat away from the car. His voice sounded hoarser than it had a few moments ago. “Fuck no, can’t find a cigarette around here for less than a snipegun. Haven’t been able to lift any either. Like I said, I think this is just some common cold or whatever.”

“So fuckin’ hot in the desert, I don’t know how you get these things,” Gerard muttered.

“My body is weak.” Ghoul shrugged. “And I’ve only had one once since I’ve been with you shitheads, count your lucky fucking stars it hasn’t been raining more.” He put a hand on his chest and grimaced. “Fuck, it feels like it’s gonna be a bad one. I think I’m gonna be out for five days.”

“Sure,” Gerard said, snorting. “If by the third day you’re not better, I’ll buy your ass some motherfucking fruit.”

“Oh shit yes, you’re on,” Ghoul said. He reached a hand over Gerard’s shoulder and his wrist was warm and solid. His hand was, too, when Gerard reached his own up to grip it in a shake.

“That’s a good fucking deal for me,” Ghoul said, leaning back in his seat. “I want fucking peaches, you hear me? Good ones.”

“Sure,” Gerard said, laughing. “Peaches.”

* * * *

Gerard shook his head and slapped the hood of the AM. “I can’t believe it.”

“You know not to take him in a bet, this is your own damn fault,” Mikey muttered. He had his sunglasses on and Gerard couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew Mikey was grumpy- the set of his shoulders was a dead giveaway.

“Fuck you,” Gerard said. He closed his mouth when a young girl he didn’t recognize from the [Garden Snakes](http://kazzbot.livejournal.com/3454.html#cutid1) was the first one to hop out of the green van. A man dressed in a blue leather jacket got out next, sunglasses and bandana over his nose, but Gerard could still place a codename to the small bit of face he could see: Countdown. The man had been running with Garden, running clandestine plant operations around the zones, for as long as Gerard could remember.

“Killjoys,” the man said.

The girl blinked, her mouth falling open. “Holy shit!” she exclaimed.

“Bones,” Countdown warned.

“Yeah kid,” a man climbing out of the back of the van drawled. He was about as tall as Ghoul, and he looked just as tough. “Don’t fuckin’ swear or Count’ll blow a goddamn fuse.”

“Mars, stop it. They’re customers,” Countdown said, glancing back at the man.

Mars rolled his eyes, making a face and imitating Countdown under his breath. “I’m just gonna wait over here ‘case they need to get shot,” he said, hanging back by the door of the van.

“Don’t shoot the Killjoys!” Bones shouted. “Mars, oh my god!”

“ _Customers_ ,” Countdown warned again, shaking his head. “Try not to take out the source of our income, Mars. Party Poison, Kobra Kid. What can I get you two?”

“Fuckin’ bet,” Mikey muttered, pushing himself off the hood of the car when Gerard did.

It looked like he was turning to face Mars and the empty desert, keeping an eye on Gerard’s back, so Gerard just smiled at Countdown. He was wearing his yellow mask anyway, it was better that Mikey was the one standing guard. He could probably catch anything coming quicker than Gerard with the slight obstruction to his vision. “Fruit,” Gerard said. “Peaches, if you have them.”

“Apples too,” Mikey muttered.

“The fuck you want apples for, this isn’t a grocery run,” Gerard said.

“The pint-runner,” Mikey said.

“Sure, blame her,” Gerard said, but he sighed. “Fine, some apples too. And while we’re trading away our life’s savings, why don’t you throw in some veggies too, one of whatever you got.”

“That many?” Countdown asked.

Mikey jammed his elbow into Gerard’s ribs. _We’re having a party, we need food,_ Gerard said with a shrug. So what if Mikey had just reminded him now? Didn't make the facts any less true.

Mikey sniffed _you’re the boss_ and turned away.

“Yep, that many,” Gerard said to Countdown.

The man ran a hand through his hair. “Well, shit. Okay. Bones, check the middle for the fruit, huh?”

“What’re those?” Mikey asked, voice flat as he pointed to a long purple thing that was in one of the crates by the door. He wasn’t even looking in their direction; he had his back turned to Gerard.

“Eggplants,” Countdown said.

“They look disgusting,” Mikey said.

“They’re...an acquired taste,” Countdown said, rubbing his arm and giving Mars a dirty look when the man snickered.

“After dog food, nothing can really be that bad, huh?” Gerard asked, but Countdown shook his head.

“Depends who you are.”

“Right,” Gerard said. He ambled over to the crates and eyed the purple vegetables with suspicion. “Well, I think we’ll steer clear of those.”

“They’re like meat,” Bones said, peering up from behind a crate. “Chewy and tender if you roast ‘em.”

Gerard looked up at the girl and hesitated for a moment. “Really?”

“No,” Mikey said.

“Yeah, pint-size’s right, they are,” Mars drawled. “What the shit’d you know about veggies, blondie?”

Mikey turned his head to the side and sniffed. Gerard still couldn’t see his eyes, but Mikey was definitely giving him a look. _We’re not buying those vegetables and that’s final._ “No.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. _Protein is good. You want to eat dog food with this meal too? We’re all out of beans._

 _The purple things freak me out,_ Mikey shrugged.

“Fine,” Gerard said, smiling at Countdown. “How about enough for whatever that thing is called. That one that pre-pig people’d make. The, uh, mix of leafy green shit, what’s the name?”

“Salad,” Mikey said.

“Yeah, that.” Gerard nodded. “And the apples and the peaches.”

Countdown furrowed his brow. He was probably doing math in his head, so Gerard just shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a small plume of dust towards Mikey. Mikey wrinkled his nose but didn’t say anything.

“What’ve you got?” Countdown asked, when Bones brought a crate around from the middle of the van.

“Meds, weapons, tech,” Gerard said, glancing at Mikey. “Name your category.”

“Meds,” Countdown said.

“Greens, sunkiller, salve, wraps,” Gerard said.

“Got anything we can chase those greens with?” Mars asked. He looked interested. Countdown looked annoyed.

“Shut up,” Countdown snapped. “Tech?”

Mikey cleared his throat. “Got a vitalized motherboard; good for guns, better for signal boosts and GP.”

“That’ll cover the fruit,” Countdown said. “We need some salve and SK. Your wraps clean?”

“Sterile as light,” Mikey said.

“Ten feet,” Countdown said. “Ten greens, two tubes of each med.”

“You running a sale?” Gerard asked. He nodded at Mikey, who grumbled but went to the car to dig around in their med kit.

“Market’s good,” Countdown muttered. “Hard to find good motherboards too, right now. Vent system’s breaking down back home.”

“Kobra,” Gerard called. “You got anything’ll fix a vent system?”

“Dumb luck,” Mikey said. “Oh, I got a fuckin’ CPU too. Brand spankin’ new. You want that ‘stead of the motherboard?”

“We know shit about tech,” Mars piped up.

“Grocer only said somethin’ bout a faulty motherboard,” Countdown said hesitantly.

“‘s fine,” Mikey said, bringing out the requested items.

Gerard watched the exchange happen and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Ring us up if you need to swap, huh? We’re running for a few weeks, toes on the line.”

“You guys are _so cool_ ,” Bones blurted. Mars shoved her, glaring. She shrugged, and stuck her hands in her pockets.

Gerard just smiled at her. Mikey was taking their goods back to the car and they could go home to the cool air of the diner. “You too,” he said. “Thanks for the fruit.”

When he hopped in the car, Mikey was giving him the _Let’s go, motherfucker_ look that Gerard knew a little too well.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Gerard muttered. “We’re going, already.”

_You’re slow._

“Am not.”

_Are too._

Gerard rolled his eyes and peeled away from the van. “Whatever, shitbrain.”

Mikey snorted. _At least I have a brain._

“Shut up.”

* * * *

The rest of their gang was gathered in the diner when Gerard and Mikey returned; Grace and Jet were sitting on one side of one of the tables, opposite a...giant pile of blankets.

“Party!” Grace yelled, eyes lighting up when they walked in the door with vegetables in hand.

“That’s right,” Gerard said. “Now the party can start. We brought food! We’re gonna have a _salad_.”

Mikey nudged him with an elbow. “How were you planning on serving this?”

Gerard opened his mouth to retort, but. “Huh.”

Jet straightened up. “Hang on, I’ve got this. You guys...assemble. Or whatever it is you do with those things.”

Grace tugged at the ends of her hair, jittering in place as Gerard set about cutting the “cucumbers” and “carrots” and “onions” as Mikey instructed with his eyebrows.

“How about that?” Gerard asked, pointing to the pile of uneven squares on the cutting counter. Mikey twitched his lips. “You think you can do it better, smartass?”

Mikey shrugged. “Apples now.”

“Yeah, for the side,” Gerard said.

“No,” Mikey said.

“Well then _what_?” Gerard let Mikey slide over and take the knife with an impatient huff. “You wanna put them in the salad? But,” Gerard said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Books say we need dressing!” Grace said, giggling. “I don’t know what that means.”

The pile of blankets said something incomprehensible and then let out a series of wracking, phlegmy coughs.

“Ghoul says the 'S n P' from under the counter will be good,” Grace announced.

“The what?” Gerard asked, eyeing Mikey’s hand on the knife. He was cutting really slowly, with his face _really_ close to the board, like if he became one with the apple, he’d be able to split it in tiny pieces a lot easier.

The pile of blankets sneezed.

“He says it’s like a spice,” Grace said, wrinkling her nose. “I hope you know what that means, cos I don’t.”

“Yeah, of course, a spice,” Gerard said, frowning. He tapped his fingers on the counter and then nudged Mikey’s ribs.

“Big white and black containers, can’t miss em,” Mikey muttered. He had cut up approximately two slices of apple.

“You’re too slow,” Gerard said, pushing Mikey’s bony legs out of the way so he could reach for a thing that was apparently called a spice. “I didn’t think these things were real,” he said, when he’d found the cylindrical containers. “I thought it was just a word to describe, like. Conversation.”

“You should ask Thriller about spices,” Mikey said.

“That sounds gross,” Gerard muttered, straightening up. “Okay, now we need to...mix these? Grace, you know what a salad looks like, come help.”

Grace giggled when the blankets coughed again and slid out of the booth. “Ghoul said you lit some dog food on fire for his birthday and he resents you.”

Gerard sighed. “He liked it, he likes fire. And he kind of likes beans and dog food, too. Kobra, hurry up, I gotta cut the peaches too. What do we do when they’re done?”

“Uhm,” Grace said, peeking over the counter. “Put it in a bowl and mix it around. Then you put some on every plate...uhm...”

“Bowl,” Jet said, the box he’d salvaged from the dump in his arms. He had a bowl in one of his hands, which he handed to Grace. “You guys finish up and then come to the table, okay? Grace, no peeking.”

“Right,” Gerard said, when Grace nodded. “Kobra, gimme the damn knife.”

“Done!” Mikey exclaimed, straightening up.

“Okay, now these go in the bowl.” Grace held the white container up, instructing Mikey as Gerard stabbed the peach.

It was weird.

It was all fuzzy on the outside and then soft, but then hard in the middle? Like something was in there. He pushed down with his knife as hard as he could, wondering how he could saw through that when the pile of blankets appeared at his elbow.

“Pit,” Ghoul croaked. His eyes were rimmed with red and he sniffed when he reached a finger out to tap Gerard’s arm. “Take out the pit.”

“The what?” Gerard asked.

“Cut...” Ghoul rasped, hiding his face when his body was wracked with coughs. “Cut around, in a circle.”

All the way around, okay. Gerard did that, and he grimaced at the sticky mess in his hands. “Now what.”

“Twist,” Ghoul said, coughing. “Twist the...”

“The halves?” Gerard asked. He put one hand on either side of the peach and twisted. “Woah,” he said, when they came apart easily in his hands, splitting away from a dark brown hard thing. “Oh, a _pit_.”

Ghoul poked him in the arm again, and Gerard cut a slice of the peach, placing it into the other man’s greedy fingers. “I don’t know if it’s good,” he said. “I hope it is.”

Ghoul slid his dark, tattooed fingers over the slimy yellow flesh and then popped it in his mouth. “Mmf,” he said. His eyelashes fluttered as his face relaxed in sheer bliss. For a moment, Gerard thought he might be jealous of a fruit, and then Ghoul came just short of moaning, and yep, that was definitely jealousy. Also something a little south, but there were children and brothers present.

“Ah,” Ghoul murmured, reaching out again so he could grab Gerard’s arm and bury his face in it. “Fuck me, that’s good.”

Gerard was pretty sure he couldn’t make words happen without inviting Ghoul to some very child unfriendly things and/or ravishing Ghoul right there behind the counter, so he just swallowed and patted Ghoul’s head.

“Are they good?” Mikey asked.

“He’s rubbing snot on my sleeve, they must be,” Gerard said, clearing his throat. He ignored Ghoul’s muffled curse about Gerard’s mother and caught the man when he stumbled.

“You barely even cut it up,” Mikey said, looking at the peach in dismay. “Let me, you just take the invalid back to the table.”

“Yeah, okay,” Gerard said. “Let’s go, sweetie pie.”

“I’ll...” Ghoul sniffled, shuffling where directed. “I’ll hit you. Real hard.”

“Uh huh,” Gerard said, letting Ghoul squish himself back in the corner.

“In the face,” Ghoul muttered, tugging the blankets over his head so only his eyes were peeking out of the mini-cave. They’d drifted shut, but he looked like he was concentrating really hard on something. Staying awake, maybe.

Gerard patted Ghoul on the head and slid in the booth beside the man, only then noticing the dainty blue and white plates sitting in front of them. “Oh shit,” Gerard said, looking up at Jet. “This a whole set?”

“Yep,” Jet said. “Looked everywhere for ‘em.” He was pretty much beaming, so Gerard nodded.

“Kobra, cover Grace’s eyes when you come over here, yeah?”

“You want fuckin’ what?” Mikey asked, grumbling something under his breath when Gerard didn’t answer. “Fine. Uh, stay here. I’ll bring the salad over. Guys, why are you all sitting down already, fuck you all, you can’t help?”

“But you’re the best at food,” Gerard said, making his eyes as wide as he could.

Mikey stomped on his foot and put the bowl on the table. “You’re a dirty fucking freak.”

“Yep,” Gerard said, trying not to wince or make it look like his foot hurt at all.

Ghoul sneezed.

“Yeah,” Grace said, apparently agreeing with whatever Ghoul was thinking. He’d retreated into his blanket cave and Gerard could only see the tip of his nose again. “He asked if I could open my eyes already.”

“Oh, well,” Jet said, clearing his throat. He looked nervous. “Yes.”

Mikey let Grace’s eyes go. Her face fell for a moment, as she looked from cup to plate to her dad’s face. “Is...is all this for me?” she asked, like she already knew the answer was _no_.

“Yeah, I, uh. Do you like it?” Jet asked, wringing his hands in front of him. “I thought it would be nice if you had something real, uh. Like back in the city. Your mom would have wanted you to...do you like it?”

Grace’s lower lip trembled and she shook her head. “I love it, I love it, _I love it_ ,” she exclaimed, and threw herself at Jet Star.

The man buried his face in his daughter’s hair, and if his face was a bit wet when she pulled away then nobody said anything. Gerard was pretty sure Mikey was swiping at his face a little, and when he kicked Gerard’s leg for staring a little too long, he didn’t do it super hard.

“Thanks,” Grace said, her smile wobbly but her eyes bright when she looked at all of them. “All of you. This is the best birthday ever.”

“Dunno how I’m gonna top it next year,” Jet said.

“You’ll figure something out,” Mikey said. “Let’s eat, I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“As if,” Gerard muttered, when Mikey shoved him over to crawl in the booth. “You ate us out of pup and beans this morning.”

“I’m a growing boy,” Mikey said, pinkie out when he held his teacup out for some water. “I need my sustenance.”

The salad was surprisingly good, but it was the peaches that stood out. Even though Ghoul was a selfish bastard and hoarded most of them, each Killjoy got a portion of one. They were so sweet and juicy, and no can of power pup or beans ever tasted as good after that.

After the meal, Grace leaned on Jet Star’s shoulder and beamed at all of them. “Thanks for the dishes,” she said. “I know Dad got them but I bet you guys shot somebody along the way, so, thanks. Y’all are the best things about the desert.”

Ghoul sneezed twice and coughed hideously, and Grace laughed. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”


End file.
